A Few Days with Friends 23
by sarapals with past50
Summary: Sara and Gil Grissom story continues as they celebrate with a party, old friends, and a surprise. Some history, all fun and fluff.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Happy Birthday, Mr. Petersen! This story takes place in the future, all fluff and fun, with a family and old friends. We don't own CSI, most of these characters, just having a good time putting them in a happy place. Read, enjoy, and remember to review! New chapters posted every 2-3 days._

**A Few Days with Friends: Chapter 1**

_A future day…_

Overhead long wispy clouds traced across the cerulean sky and mixed with trails of jets flying east and west. Bees and butterflies flew over and around the mix of wildflowers, purposefully grown, before settling on nectar bearing blooms of red and pink, yellow and orange. There were three houses on the property, well placed and set back from the paved road; each house had its own driveway branching from one turnoff. Trees planted over the past decades shaded the shared yards and blended the houses into a pleasing neighborhood. The house in the middle was the oldest of the three but appearances were deceptive as its style of windows and muted colors with a deep porch made it timeless and indistinguishable from the newer homes.

Inside the center house, a young woman moved some of the trinkets displayed on a shelf and pulled a photograph forward. She smiled, her blue eyes sparkling; seven people, a family—her parents and siblings; yet none were looking at the camera. She backed up and sat down holding the framed picture remembering the day it was taken.

Paris—the year she was eleven, or was she twelve, she couldn't remember. They were standing with the Eiffel Tower behind them, a clear, azure sky beyond the familiar landmark, and Aunt Catherine had been the one with the camera. A sudden wind gust had lifted their father's cap, he had yelped, everyone had looked up at him or the cap, and the camera caught their expressions. One of her sister's was pointing, another laughing, the two boys were in mid-jump, and her parents were looking at each other—it was a glimpse of their life and her mother had chosen this one to display as a remembrance of the trip.

As a child, she had not understood the enormous undertaking of traveling with five young children. She did not comprehend parenthood and the problems and rewards; one never does until one becomes a parent. She smiled and let her finger trace the images behind the glass. Her older brother was a few inches taller than she had been; her younger brother, Will, was still a little kid. She remembered the trip as one often remembers a dream—certain things were a blur, other things she recalled with crystal clarity.

Ava had gotten lost in a department store and they had all gotten new dresses; hers had been white with grey dots. Her mother had gotten an award—a medal that still hung on the wall—and she and her mother had walked through an old cemetery. Funny what memories one had of childhood—she could not remember visiting any museums but she remembered dancing along the mirrored hall of Versailles.

Elizabeth Grissom, called Bizzy by everyone who knew her, smiled at her thoughts. At the time, much to her mother's dismay, she was wrapped up in learning about religion and churches and saints. Later, her mother would tell her how it had worried her to have a child so interested in religion.

The Paris trip had been the first of many—by the time she was a teenager, they had traveled to the rain forest in Costa Rica and to the Galapagos Islands. Bizzy stood again and looked for a memento from that trip. No photograph—probably because they wore the same clothes for days at a time and everyone ducked when their mother raised her camera. She found it—a little woven fish made from a native leaf. Her fingers touched it but she didn't pick it up, afraid the fragile souvenir would disintegrate. A native woman had shown them how to weave birds and fish from grasses and leaves; this one survived to return home.

The entire shelf was filled with keepsakes: several other photos—she was in several with her brothers and sisters, one of her dad in a tacky straw hat, one of her brothers standing on the bow of a ship—she remembered that trip too. They were on the ship for a week and she was sea sick the entire time. Her brother had found his passion on that trip; even now, he was living the life of a sailor—no, she corrected her thought, he was a captain. She picked up a shell, turning it over several times, remembering trips to beaches and unable to pinpoint where the shell had been picked up. There was a small glass boat no larger than her little finger, from Venice, she knew from the story of her parent's honeymoon. She laughed at that—her parent's honeymoon had lasted all of her life. Even at their current age, she was sure the passionate romance that had begun when her mother was—she frowned as she thought—younger than she was now, continued every day.

A sudden thought came to her mind; there had been a box in this room. She looked around but didn't see it. Once her sisters had opened the box and she had read her mother's diary, or a few pages of it. She smiled as she remembered how she bawled thinking her dad was not her real dad, and he thought she had started her period. She giggled out loud; later, when she did have her first period, she had announced the fact at the dinner table. Her dad had choked; her mother smiled, and her brothers and sisters acted like they had not heard her announcement.

She pulled another framed picture from the shelf. All the people in the photo would be here later today—with one exception—the others had been included in every family celebration of her entire life. The one she did not know—Warrick Brown—had died before she was born, but she loved his son as her brother. She had not seen Eli in months but he would be here today. As she looked at the faces in the photograph, she realized how much Eli looked like his father—thinner, more wiry than muscle—but with the height and hair and eye color, anyone who knew his father saw the likeness.

Her thumb rubbed across the face of her father. Eli wasn't the only one who favored his father; her younger brother's face grinned in the photo. Her dad and her brother, Will, looked more alike every day. The others in the photograph had aged over the years but each was easily recognizable.

Aunt Catherine would always have blonde hair, softened now with platinum highlights, still slim and wearing classy clothes. Bizzy knew Catherine Willows was very wealthy; she also knew she owed her aunt for the education she had completed at a private college. Aunt Catherine had called it a "gift" as she had made the financial arrangements; only later did Bizzy realize how generous the gift had been.

The grin on the faces of Uncle Nick and Uncle Greg had not changed over the years. Nick had married—one of the girls from the lab; they had adopted two children who would be here tomorrow. Just as Nick was their 'uncle', his children were their 'cousins'. Nick was retired and spent his time on golf courses around the country as he and Mandy drove the highways in one of the new hybrid recreational vehicles.

Bizzy smiled as she thought about his ability to charm all the women. Uncle Greg was another story. He had continued working for the crime lab long after he had accumulated considerable wealth as a successful author. He had married, divorced, married again, and divorced. She and Eli had spent six weeks with him one summer working in the lab and during that time, she had realized Greg lived with a secret. He loved her mother.

It had happened one morning as they ate breakfast and Eli asked why Greg did not have lots of girlfriends—he had a beautiful house, nice cars, money—what a young man considered necessary for getting women. Greg had been exhausted from long hours or a troublesome case or some other reason the two did not understand, or he probably would not have said what he did. He had lowered his fork, and quietly said, "I've loved your mother for years." They had laughed, as he had, but, later, when she thought about the conversation, Bizzy knew he spoke the truth—he loved her mother.

The man she called Uncle Jim was the last man in the row of laughing people. He would be here later today; he had not missed coming to this house every week for years. After he retired from Las Vegas Police Department, he realized there was nothing to keep him in the desert city. He had moved to a large retirement community an easy drive from the Grissom home, and he came as a regular visitor to eat, to laugh, to play the stubbornly fake curmudgeon uncle to Sara's children, and they loved him for his true character.

Bizzy could hear her sisters downstairs. They were 'in charge' of the kitchen and the food. Knowing those two, they would eat half of what they cooked and forget to prepare half of what was planned. She ambled around the room. This had been her mother's workplace for years but now she kept a little desk downstairs. She opened blinds and looked at the yard below seeing her husband and two little boys playing on a swing.

Along the shelf under the window were several books—she removed one slim volume and opened it. The book was a family treasure, one Uncle Greg had written and published just for them. She sat down in her mother's chair and turned the pages of a book written and illustrated for children. It was a love story.

_A/N: Remember to review, send a comment our way! Thanks!_


	2. Chapter 2

**A Few Days with Friends Chapter 2**

Will Grissom stood in the middle of the large crowded office and looked at the accumulated treasures of a long life—or at least thirty years of a life. There were dozens of photographs, another dozen or so insect displays, half a wall filled with honors, awards, even an old diploma. The bookshelves went to the ceiling, almost spotlessly clean and in some kind of order. The organization was his mother's handwork; his dad would have stacks of disorganized 'stuff' going back decades if his mother had not used her skills of efficiency and precision in the office. His dad had been well past fifty years old when he was born so much of what was hanging on the wall was older than he was. He knew some of the books had copyright dates going back to the 1990s. He leaned closer to the wall to study the photographs.

His eyes found one of his parents and a monkey. His mother, young and beautiful with her curly dark hair framing her face, was laughing as the monkey sat on her head; his father, wearing a raggedy straw hat, was also laughing as they looked at the camera. He knew the story—it had been told to them as children—related as a bedtime travel tale. Only later did he realize the romance of the story: how Sara Sidle had left Gil Grissom for her own adventure and he had left work, retired from a career in forensics to begin a new life with her—a life which included five children who grew up in this house with enough love and contentment and compassion to make him, his brother, and three sisters into the adults they had become. As a young adult, he knew there was passion between his parents, something a child can not name, but later recognizes.

He smirked and grinned as he looked at the photograph. He did look like his father—no doubt about parentage with the same blue eyes and the same dimple in his chin. And he wasn't the only one of five children who bore a remarkable resemblance to their dad. Two of his sisters were in the next room, over talking one another as they made plans and he could easily have been a twin to either, or a triplet to both.

One had called to him earlier and his answer of "Whatever you want" had pleased them. As the youngest of five, he had learned long ago to go along with what they planned. He lifted one of the two photographs from the desk—this one was of his mother sitting on the porch swing, her legs stretched beside her. She was so young, and pregnant. Even now, when he thought about his parents and his siblings, he was awed by how they had managed five children in five years—four of them born by his mother.

The second photograph was one of five children, adolescents to young teenagers, standing in a rainforest. The children, a ragtag bunch, were smiling at the camera; his parents were kissing. Will laughed as he remembered the trip to Costa Rica. Annie and Ava had hated nearly every day of the trip, Bizzy had enjoyed it, and he, his brother, and his dad wore the same clothes for five days, jumping into streams and rivers or standing in the rain to get "clean enough" as they had called it. He sat it back in its place.

Reaching for the first photo, he turned the frame over and unlatched the back cover. He knew his mother and her usual habit was to write names and dates on the back of photographs. Carefully, he lifted the backer board away and a folded paper fluttered to the desk top where he left it as he concentrated on the faded writing. His hunch had been right.

Written in his mother's handwriting was a date; he chuckled. It was two weeks before his own birthday and she had written 'my little Gilbert and me'. No one ever called him Gilbert, and the few people who noticed the diplomas on his walls were the only ones who knew his middle name. He turned the photograph over and studied it. She was alone—a minor miracle, he suspected, because his three sisters and his brother would have been somewhere nearby. He realized the swing was not the usual porch swing but the bed swing that had been on the front porch for years and she was lying on her side, a book propped on her belly. She was holding up two fingers and grinning her broad smile—his sister, Bizzy, had the same smile.

Slipping the photograph back in place, he picked up the folded paper. Either his mom had placed the paper on purpose to stay with the photograph, or the paper was there simply to hold the print in place. He unfolded it to find it covered with writing, a penmanship he recognized. He sat down on the desk and began to read about his own birth—or his mother's pregnancy, more correctly.

In the kitchen, Will's sisters, twins Ava and Annie, were working on plans in the making for months.

"What's the last count?"

"Thirty, counting all of us, the neighbors."

These two worked together with the easy symmetry of many twins, one opened the oven door as the other reached for a pot holder. Ava's hand rested on her pregnant belly as her sister removed a large pan of bread from the oven.

"I swear I could eat all of these," Ava said as her fingers plucked one from the pan and she quickly passed it from hand to hand while blowing on it. The rolls went into a warming drawer.

Her sister snickered, "You look like you did!" Annie had two babies, a daughter asleep in a crib down the hall, and a son who was playing outside with his cousin.

"Remember when Sister Deborah would bring us bread and eggs?" Ava said as she sat down at the table, pulled the hot bread apart and passed half of it to Annie. "We thought that was normal—having a group of nuns next door, going over there every day, eating all their food!"

"Those women loved us—the only time I saw Mom cry was when Sister Deborah died."

Ava spread butter across the hot bread in her hand. "Her funeral is the first one I can remember going to. Dad was holding Mom so tight and we didn't know what to do." She moved a chair to prop her feet up. "Later, Mom told us Sister Deborah was like a mother to her, and a grandmother to us."

Annie bit into the roll. "Yeah, we were so—sheltered, I guess, is the right word." She laughed. "Once in second grade, I named every one of them as my grandmothers—I think there were twelve of them! Confused the heck out of the teacher."

Ava leaned back in her chair. "And now your kids will be the same way. It's amazing how this part of the state doesn't change—not even the road has changed. Some times I wish we could live here, but I love my job and Dan loves his!" She reached across the table and took her sister's hand. "Annie, we all know you and Bizzy do so much for Mom and Dad—while we come in every few weeks and see how everything continues to be much the same."

Her sister's laugh was an echo of her own. "Believe me, Mom and Dad do more for us than we do for them. It's amazing—they are up early, gardening every day, walking, Dad takes the boys to preschool almost every day—if I didn't know better, I'd think they were in their fifties—younger! They definitely have more energy than I do."

They both laughed, knowing Annie's statement about energy had made them have the same thought. Ava lifted one eyebrow and said, "Do you think…" Their laughter turned to giggles as Annie shook her head.

She held up a hand. "Do not go there—but I will say that we do not walk in on them!" Both heads fell forward as they collapsed against the table, smothering sounds with their arm in an almost identical way.

Their brother walked in and found both sisters in the midst of some private joke; Annie was wiping her eyes with her sleeve. "What's so funny?" He asked, which brought another round of laughter as both girls shook their heads.

"You really don't want to know!" Ava stood, reached into the warming drawer and tossed him a hot roll. "We baked one pan early, but no one will notice. Eat one."

His sister noticed the paper in his hand. "What's that?"

Taking a seat at the table, he unfolded the paper he had found behind the photo. "I found this behind Dad's picture of Mom—the one on his desk. I think it was written by Dad before I was born."

Annie said, "Did you read it?"

_A/N: And the story continues--please review! _


	3. Chapter 3

**A Few Days with Friends Chapter 3**

Before he responded, Ava took the paper. "I will." Her sister and brother shrugged as she began reading:

"_Everyone is finally asleep. I can not remember a time when I have been more terrified—placenta accreta, the placenta is growing into the uterus. Sara is in a daze—I'm not sure she has comprehended the seriousness of this condition—to her or to our son. She's been on bed rest for three weeks, another three to five weeks to go. Finally, the kids are happier. Eli is puzzled but at least he has school and that keeps him busy. Bizzy is lost. She stays with me or her mother, her big frightened eyes watching us. She is old enough to know something is wrong but too young to understand. Ava and Annie are confused—one seems to be crying all the time. Even Sister Deborah is unable to distract them with kittens or cookies. They are always looking for Sara. _

_I am lost as well. Sara is my rock; she is my organizer—the one who plans our days and nights. I would willingly give up this child for her because I know I can not live without her. But she is convinced everything will work out—and the doctor tells us this as well. It is most serious when it is unknown. I am terrified I will have to make a decision before this baby can survive, hopefully, the doctor is right. _

…_.I am adding this note—two weeks ago, little Will Grissom arrived, safe, healthy, perfect in every way. And his mother is well again—my wife, my heart, is happy, healthy, she smiles all the time. Today, she was feeding Will, Annie on one side, Ava on the other, snuggled against her arms. It was the most beautiful sight I've ever seen and she is content. We are a family of seven now—as Sara says, we have the perfect family, a girly sandwich with the boys as bread, or three pretty girls with our perfect boys as bookends. This is a wonderful life she has given me. _

…_The photograph was taken two weeks before Will's birth, on the porch. She's so beautiful." _

The three were quiet for a minute as Ava turned the paper over in her hand. She grinned, "Now we know how you got here, Will."

Annie took the paper from her sister. "That's when we got the bed swing—Mom said it came with Will. Dad must have had it put on the porch for her bed rest." The others said nothing as she silently read her father's writing again. "Imagine what it was like for Dad—having four of us running around here and Mom in bed."

"And a fifth one due any day," Will chuckled. "Uncle Greg's book was written after I was born, wasn't it?" He turned in his chair, shouting, "Bizzy! Where are you? Find Uncle Greg's book and bring it down here!"

"Don't yell!" Annie cautioned.

Their older sister appeared at the top of the stairs. "I can hear—the surgery worked," she said as she came downstairs with a book in her hand. "And I was looking at this book when I heard you talking."

Bizzy had been the child to inherit her father's otosclerosis; her pregnancy had exacerbated her hearing loss. She had undergone laser surgery within weeks of delivery that returned her hearing to normal limits. Now, with her sister's pregnancy, the family waited knowing otosclerosis could make its first appearance during pregnancy.

"We always knew this story was written just for us," she said. "Now, I realize what a wonderful love story Uncle Greg wrote for us."

"Look what Will found behind Mom's photograph—on Dad's desk," Annie held out the page.

When Bizzy took the paper, she grinned. "What is this 'let's see what we can find today' while Mom and Dad are gone? Why on earth did you look behind the picture?"

Her brother grinned. "I wanted to see the date—see who Mom was pregnant with! I thought it was you and turns out I was looking at myself!" Will laughed. "She wrote 'Gilbert' on the back of it and this fell out."

Bizzy read the note as he talked, "She told me she had this condition when I was losing my hearing. I doubt she has ever read this note—Dad isn't emotional—doesn't show his emotions often and for him to write, and save this, he must have been terrified." She folded the paper along the original folds.

Her sister interrupted, "He was emotional when you had little Gil—he and Mom actually cried."

"And when you got in to med school, and when Eli left the last time—Dad wants Eli to have a 'desk job'!" Ava raked her hair away from her face. "I don't think they have ever gotten emotional over us." She gave a mischievous grin to her sister.

The siblings laughed. Will groaned, "I think exasperation would be an emotion!"

Bizzy passed the note to her brother. "Put this back, Will. We don't want him to know that we learned he would have sacrificed you for Mom!" She smiled, reaching over to run her palm along his jaw line. "And look at what the world would have missed—our brother, not content to be a plain old medical doctor and work with your favorite sister—no! But learning to be a surgeon!"

Ava and Annie laughed with one saying, "Not just a 'surgeon' but a neurosurgeon!"

"And a Stanford neurosurgeon!" the other added.

Will blushed. As the family baby, even as an adult, he was fair game for the teasing praises of his sisters. They would tease and taunt, admire and approve everything he did for as long as he lived—it was part of being their little brother. He had lived in their spotlight for so long, he had once had a rude awakening when he realized the rest of the world did not see him with the same glowing perception. He had followed his oldest sister into medicine and found he had an affinity for surgery, very delicate and intricate surgery. Last year he had been selected to enter the neurosurgery residency at Stanford—and he was certain his sister's reputation had opened a few doors.

The Grissom children had grown up in a close-knit, intimate family; none of the children had suspected the genius of their oldest sister—it was the natural order of things—until a gradual dawning occurred at some point—most students did not begin college at fifteen. Most medical school applicants were not nineteen; she was the youngest and smartest in her graduating class. And, much to the regret of some of her professors, she chose a family practice residency—settling in the small town in the valley where she had grown up and her parents still lived.

As the youngest, and following two flamboyant sisters, Will had quietly succeeded in academics; not as brilliant as Bizzy, so much quieter than Ava and Annie, he had announced he wanted to go to medical school. His big sister had taken his hand and guided him and when she saw his talent and genius was in surgery, she encouraged him in that direction. When he received his acceptance to Stanford, she was as proud as her parents.

"Is everything ready?" He asked as he left the women, heading back to his dad's office.

"Everything," three voices chimed as one.

"Except for the guests," Ava said.

Bizzy added, "Except for the parental unit!"

"Don't forget Eli—where is he?" Annie asked.

***

Eli Grissom had traveled a long way and his current mode of transportation would have been a fun trip with his friends and co-workers; today it was the one way he knew he could get home, and he was almost there. The low flying box of an airplane had picked him up just north of the California state line at day break with the pilot setting a flight plan for Eli's hometown. They had barely cleared several mountains and the cargo of bottles of glacier water had tilted and groaned and strained at their straps, but held. As the plane descended into the valley he had called home for so long, he recognized certain landmarks. Keeping with his sisters' wishes, he had arranged for a friend to meet him when he landed—he was the surprise in the grand plans of his sisters.

He closed his eyes and smiled; he had talked to his mother yesterday and she had wished he could be home, but understood the isolation of his work. He could not remember a time when she had not been his mother; his first memories were of her, holding his hand, reading to him, cooking for him. Eli remembered the day he met his biological mother, and afterwards his mom, who he considered his real mother, had hugged him until he complained he could not breathe. He made a soft chuckle; of course, his sisters and brother had picked up on his complaint. And any time their mother got them in a two-arm hug, someone would croak "I can't breathe!" mocking his words.

The day he tried to explain to his parents his wish to leave college, to work as a volunteer on an ocean-going environmental ship, her hand had covered his, a smile on her face, and she told him to follow his dream. He had been nineteen that year. She wanted him to be happy; his dad wanted him to be safe. For a year he worked without pay, proving he was serious, determined to work, would not back down in the harsh conditions, and then his captain hired him. For five years he worked with the same captain and crew as they moved back and forth across unseen grids, counting sea life, and each day they counted more trash.

During his fifth year at sea, several things happened: his captain had grown tired of being so far away from family, and the foundation they worked for obtained another small ship to work on clean-up of the coastline. His captain took the smaller ship, and Eli passed his master captain's exam. And his mother went to sea with him for a month; he laughed as he recalled her saying the last time she had been away from his dad for a month, she had been on a ship.

He stirred in the jump seat and grunted as the pilot in front of him read a name from a water tank. He had heard of "flying by road" and now this.

"Should be coming up soon," Eli said. "Airport is north of town, off to the east."

The pilot adjusted his earphones and pointed. "That's it—right on time!"

Eli hoped the airplane would have enough space to land and held his breath as brakes were applied rapidly as the end of the runway approached. The pilot succeeded and turned at the end of the runway. Eli knew how to pilot a ship and bring it within inches of a dock or another ship, but flying airplanes was a mystery. He blew out a loud breath and the pilot laughed.

"I told you I'd make it!" He laughed.

"Thanks, man—you don't know how much this means," Eli shook hands with pilot and co-pilot. "You know where to find me if you ever want to take a real cruise!"

Both men laughed again, one saying, "Not on your ship, brother—too much work!"

"Are you winning the war?" the other asked.

Eli shook his head. "Trying to keep things from getting worse is about all." He grabbed his duffle and crawled out of the jump seat, to the hatch and jumped to the tarmac.

"Keep up the good work," the pilot called from above his head.

Eli's work was in the ocean, 'saving the environment one piece of plastic at a time' he jokingly said as a way of explaining his work—no longer officially counting fish, whales, and turtles. He and his crew spent weeks at a time in a specially equipped ship that literally vacuumed the surface of the ocean. Some days he knew they made progress, but too often, he saw how decades of using oceans as a waste dump had claimed too much.

He shook thoughts of work from his mind as he searched for the red-haired girl of his dreams. He saw her hand before the rest of her appeared. Amy had been his girlfriend for nearly ten years, and while his sisters had planned his arrival as a surprise, he had his own surprise for them.

_A/N: Thanks for reading! Now review!--we have made a leap into the future--we've thought a long time about Sara and Grissom growing old together, hope you enjoy! (And review!)_


	4. Chapter 4

**A Few Days with Friends Chapter 4**

_The night before… _

Gil Grissom had made three trips to the car, carrying a small bag each time, removing a child's safety seat, and each time, followed by two small boys.

"Why can't we go?" "When will you be home?" "Can I sleep in your bed tonight?" "Will you bring me something?" They had asked a dozen questions, several times the same one. He had left the car door open and now a little dog sat on the seat.

"You can't go, Angel, not this time," he lifted the dog out of the car and turned to the boys. These were his grandsons—children of a new generation, so much like his own children, yet living in a time far removed from his own childhood. Even with all the changes in the world—environment, economics, political, technology—the little boys' favorite pastime was to follow him around. They might never change a light bulb, but they did know how to plant seeds, identify insects, and gather honey from a hive.

He knelt to their level. "Boys, we'll be back tomorrow. We'll bring Aunt Catherine and Uncle Greg with us! Remember Uncle Greg visiting us? He brought you the glow-in-the dark balls."

They both nodded. One stuck a finger up his nose; the other asked, "Will he bring us another ball?"

Grissom's hand pulled his namesake's finger out of his nose. "He might—and we'll bring you something back from the city."

…Sara drove; at some point in the past five years, Grissom had decided he would not drive in interstate highway traffic. She was a better driver today than she had been at thirty, he thought; just as fast but not quite as reckless.

"I'm glad you agreed to have this party, dear." He had placed his hand on her back and massaged her neck as she drove.

Sara grinned. "They wanted a reason for a party—I find it difficult to believe so many years have passed." She quietly laughed, "I find it almost impossible to realize I have grandchildren!"

He chuckled. They were both enjoying having little kids around again. With there own, much was a blur—so many so fast, Sara had said for years. With four grandchildren in as many years, they would have another blur, he thought. His hand stroked her neck. "You don't look like a grandmother—but you never looked like a mother of five either!"

Sara glanced at him with a smile on her face. "We are almost to our turn."

They had left their house at the insistence of their adult children to spend the night at a favorite hotel in the city. Then they would take a train ride to the airport to meet Catherine and Greg—security at airports had transformed the way passengers were met now. No privately owned automobiles were allowed at airports nowadays; passengers were delivered by train and bus to destinations and to meet someone at an airport required the same security checks from train station to airport that was required for passengers. Grissom had reserved 'first class' accommodations for the train, which meant the four would have a private lounge for the forty-five minute ride.

When they arrived at the stately hotel, one that had survived the earthquakes of 1906, 1989, and 2015 resulting in a timeless atmosphere of luxurious service, well-appointed rooms, and magnificent views, Grissom said, "This place never changes."

After they were in the elevator, Sara said, "The first time we brought the kids here was when we met Eli's mother."

"We did. After that, every time we drove into the city they wanted to stay "at the castle"! Grissom's hand touched her back as the elevator opened and the bellman held the door for them.

They had asked for a corner room and the panoramic view of the bay and bridge was as spectacular as it had been the first time he had ever seen it. The city had been at the forefront of environmental issues which ultimately brought rewards of a clean and beautiful part of the world. So many historic places had disappeared or disintegrated over the years but San Francisco was a glorious diamond along the west coast.

It did not take long to settle into the room for one night. Grissom said, "Dinner in or out?" They were standing at the window as the late afternoon sun slowly moved to the horizon.

"The Terrace—then a walk."

He made their reservations for early evening, pulling her to the bed as he made arrangements, wrapping an arm around her as she lay beside him. She flattened her palm and smoothly ran it down his chest as he talked.

Many years ago, Sara had finally convinced her husband to become a vegetarian—no more ham and bacon, steak and chicken, when he ate in restaurants. He would never admit it, but she had probably added at least a decade to his life by insisting he change his diet. And in San Francisco, vegetarian restaurants outranked all others for unique gourmet dining.

"A nap?" He said, stretching his arms above his head.

"Mmmm—would be nice," she murmured, extending her leg as she wound herself around him, a knee separating his legs, a foot caressing his calf.

His arm wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her against him. He kissed her, briefly placing lips against her hair, her eyebrow, her cheek, before finding her lips. He rolled to face her. "All these years and I'm still a horny old man for you," he chuckled. "Much older old man."

Sara laughed and nestled against his shoulder. "Take a nap, hot stuff—we'll have time for a little fun later!" She felt the rumble of another chuckle deep in his chest. "Love you, Gil." Her hand caressed his face and she kissed him, softly, and closed her eyes. He hugged her thinking she felt light in his arms, fragile, hiding the strong, resilient woman he had fallen in love with so many years ago.

A while later, they dressed in simple yet stylish evening clothes—Grissom wore black on black and Sara put on black pants and a pale blue top. He watched her fasten buttons up the front of the blouse, long, slim fingers nimbly working each button.

"You haven't changed," he said.

Sara looked up, a wide grin across her face. "Yes, I have!" She shook her hair, combing fingers through it. "My hair is no longer dark brown—and it curls more in my old age—and I've gained weight."

He walked across the room, opening his arms, "I love your curls and your curves and your body." When he wrapped arms around her, he buried his head in her hair and patted her butt. "You are skinny, woman! I need to fatten you up!"

That night, a rare one for them, to be together in the city where they first met, found them wandering streets they had walked decades ago, reminding each other of past events, where they had taken photographs—of them and, later, of their children.

"Time passes so quickly when one looks back," Sara said.

They dined in one of the vegetarian restaurants known for serving gourmet and distinctive foods. Tonight, they chose exotic mushrooms and pecans in a peppery pastry and Grissom commented he never missed beef when he ate food like this. They shared chocolate cake with fresh cherries, and to onlookers, the two appeared to be a dating couple as he leaned toward her to place a cherry in her mouth or as she moved forward, covered his hand with hers as they laughed over a private joke.

Their walk back to the hotel should have been a quick ten-minute walk, but they headed in the opposite direction, to Chinatown and its Dragon's Gate. These shops had changed little in the past twenty or thirty years; would probably never change as long as tourists flocked the crowded streets for trinkets and fine arts.

Grissom bargained for a couple of trinkets—for his grandsons, the promised gift on his return. When he picked up another trinket—a tiny doll—Sara shook her head.

"Sara Beth is too young—she's not even sitting up!"

Grissom, dangling the doll from his fingers, said, "We can hang it over her crib!"

She shook her head again but seeing his grumpy look, she suggested, "Get her a cap instead. They have such cute ones for babies—and Annie will love it."

Maneuvering around the crowded store, Grissom found two or three more items to add to his basket—fun stuff for the little boys, he said. Sara let him pick out a baby cap, pale green finely sewn linen with a scattering of flowers stitched around the crown. The selling point for Grissom was the placement of a tiny bumblebee at its crown.

"Didn't we buy one of these for Bizzy?" He asked.

They left Chinatown with two bags of toys, one for each grandson, and wandered back to the cable car line and rode one to the stop nearest their hotel.

…Grissom poured the last of the wine, enough to fill the bottom of both glasses which they finished with one swallow. Glasses were placed on floor beside the bed. Sara put her foot against his, soft and warm, and reached for the snap at the front of his pants. A smile on his face, Grissom's fingers found the buttons of her shirt, slid it from her shoulders and tossed it to join the wine glasses. Her shirt, his shirt, and some time later, he hooked the band of her blue panties with a finger and slid them down her legs, slow and easy, until he got them off. She made a little gasp as his fingers played along her ankle.

For a time, they lay still as the heat from one body penetrated the other. She took his hand and held it against her breast—as if they had all the time in the world—as though this was sufficient, no need to go further. They kissed, quickly deepening the contact to one of building passion. They remembered a time when they made love every night—every day—without a thought to the next time.

He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed each of her fingers in a long, slow play of affection. A shared look of anticipation, and he rolled on top of her.

_A/N: Reviews please! And the next chapter comes quickly!!_


	5. Chapter 5

**_A/N:_**_ We have reworked the last chapters and will have the last chapter up by Sunday--so start reading, we may post two chapters a day, or combine chapters. This is such a love story it needs to be completed this month! REVIEW, please!_

**A Few Days with Friends Chapter 5**

_Greg and Catherine arrive_

…Grissom lay on his back watching as dawn came and woke the city—outside light rolling clouds stretched across the sky meant no fog today. Occasionally, a bird's shadow crossed the window. At his age, he considered San Francisco as the city of his home, even though he had never lived in the city. His bed companion stirred; Sara continued to sleep against his chest, sprawled naked underneath the sheet. At his age, he should be satisfied with their very enjoyable time last night, but in this life, he thought, there is only one thing worth waking up for in the morning—and it wasn't breakfast.

Sara sighed, then stretched. Grissom felt her eye lashes flick against his chest. "You're awake," she said.

"I am, not long, though."

She rolled over, slid a leg across his, and sat up, pointing to the bathroom. He nodded as she wiggled out of bed and strolled across the room. He knew his heart beat a little louder, more rapid, as he watched her long, slim body disappear and heat grew more apparent between his legs. He would say it was her fault—if she had not been sleeping naked against him, walked across the room without her clothes—and he would remind her of his age. He smiled and stretched, smoothing the covers of the bed which made what was happening with his body more apparent.

While he daydreamed, Sara had slipped quietly back to the bedside. She gazed down at him, a recognized amused smirk played on her lips.

"What is this?" She asked. He grinned. "And what birthday are we celebrating?"

He laughed, and made a face. "It's your fault!" He pulled the sheet up and scooted over so she could crawl beside him.

Sex had always fascinated and amused both of them—long ago they had uncovered the physical mystery of it with their minds leaving the emotions of the act to be discovered and enjoyed over and over. Grissom had been surprised at the boldness of the woman much younger than he was all those years ago. And her enjoyment of it, of what he decided much later was her passion for him, had caught him unaware. She was neither shy nor ignorant, and her affectionate responses had warmed him, touched him as no other—eventually made it impossible for him to reject her, ignore her or be unkind to her. She was the only woman he could ever love. Then they married, had children; he would have predicted a cooling of passion but that was based on the stories he heard from others. Others did not have his Sara.

Even though every inch of his body was known to her, and there was not a freckle on her skin that he had not memorized, they explored each other with assiduous effort. She submitted to several favors with a purring pleasure, and returned his thoroughness in her own way. What had been done swiftly, often with haste in the past, was now leisurely and unhurriedly enjoyed.

Grissom's thumb caressed her cheek. "You are very beautiful, you know."

"Do you say that to all your women?" She teased, her fingers playing with the snow white curls on his head.

He laughed. "Yes."

Several hours later, Sara and Grissom waited at the arrivals gate for their visitors. Their lives were interwoven by years of shared experiences, first as co-workers, then as long-time friends. They had celebrated and mourned and worked throughout adulthood, until suddenly, one day, they looked at each other and realized the bloom of youth was gone to be replaced by graceful aging faces, a certain satisfaction with living, in the company of good friends.

Sara saw Greg first, raising a hand in greeting. Catherine's voice reached them before they saw her, and suddenly, the four friends were hugging, and talking at once.

"You didn't have to come all this way!"

"We could have ridden the train, met you in the city!"

"We wanted to see you."

"Look at you! Not a day over fifty—sixty at most!" Catherine's laughter was the same. She looked much the same regardless of years passing, wearing designer clothes, hair shaped and cut by a top stylist in Vegas, so classically perfect in her looks one knew she carried wealth with ease.

As Catherine had grown older, her skills as an observer had sharpened and within minutes of seeing the Grissom's she knew what had gone on between the couple. She laughed as she leaned into Grissom's arms, whispering so only he heard, "You two are still at it, aren't you!"

Grissom hugged her has he had always done—totally encasing her with both arms as she did with him. For more years than either wanted to remember, they had been as a brother and sister, opposite sides of a coin, and best of friends. Grissom watched over her shoulder as Sara greeted Greg. He, as her husband, knew who his wife loved; he also recognized a look in Greg that he recognized as more than the love of a friend—had seen it thirty years ago and it had never gone away. Poor guy, he thought, in love with another's man wife, and if Sara knew it, she had never voiced it.

There were many words to be said as the four hauled luggage, mostly Catherine's, onto the train, found their reserved space, and settled in for the forty-five minute ride. Everyone commented on the accommodations—finally, someone had realized that some train passengers would pay to travel in comfort and luxury, even short distances, and the wide reclining chairs, a tiny private bathroom, even small refrigerators, had been the result.

Catherine talked about her 'business'—left to her as Sam Braun's only survivor—the new laws and regulations that made it "difficult" for her to keep up. They sympathized; knowing she had dozens of lawyers and accountants who took care of the business end of casinos, hotels, multiple properties, and business endeavors. But Catherine stayed in the board room, and knew the bottom line of every aspect of this Vegas-based organization.

"Lindsay will not be here—she won't be home for at least another month!" Catherine said before reaching a hand to Sara. "I'm extremely jealous—you two have three grandchildren, almost a fourth! While my one grand is a great young man—he really is interested in the business, I wish there had been more!"

Sara, Grissom and Greg were content to let Catherine talk—she always had more to tell than anyone else, asking questions without waiting for an answer.

"Eli? Where is Eli? I so hope to see him," she paused long enough for an answer.

Of their five children, Eli was Catherine's favorite for reasons that went back to a time before his birth. She was never outwardly apparent with favoritism, but if Catherine heard of anything Eli desired, she worked to make sure it happened. Sara would never know, but she had always thought Catherine had made a substantial contribution to the foundation Eli worked for—and probably continued with financial support somewhere buried in that huge business she ran.

Grissom and Sara shook their heads. "He said he couldn't get away—from somewhere in the north Pacific," Sara said. "We'll let you know when he coming home."

"And Bizzy? Is she happy?"

Grissom's chest swelled with pride; if a parent could have a favorite child, and he would never admit he did, Bizzy was his. "She's great—really great. She and Andy have a good practice. Her hearing is normal." He paused a few seconds, "And little Gil is…" he caught the look Sara was giving him, "little Gil and Adam are good boys—wait until you see them—they've grown so much."

They talked about the others; Annie living next door with her husband and two children, Ava expecting her first baby. Grissom voiced his concern about her hearing, "So far, she's fine."

When the train ride ended, bags transferred to the car, and travel commenced to the Grissom home, talk continued in that special way of old friends, jumping from one topic to another, a comment turning the conversation around or jumping forward, and coming back to something forgotten. At times, conversation included all four as they over-talked each other, or some topic became a two-way chat, and at times talk became a monologue as one person expressed an opinion or described an event.

Catherine was not the only generous benefactor to the Grissom children. Over the years, Greg had provided—a summer in Europe for the girls, a modeling stint for Ava, a winter in Peru for Will, and, for Eli, she could not count the times Greg and Nick had aided the pursuits of the young man. Never ostentatious, but in ways Sara and Grissom could never afford, Greg had called with "special deals" that meant snowboarding in Canada for Will and Eli, or had a friend who needed a young female model, or offered a trip to Australia for a few weeks of volunteer work in the CSI lab.

Quietly, while Grissom and Catherine were discussing something in the back seat, Sara tried to thank Greg.

"Ahhh, Sara, what else am I going to do with the money I have? I'd rather spend it on your kids than on wild women chasing me all over Vegas!"

She grinned. "Greg, you and Catherine have had such an impact on our kids—things we could never have afforded."

"What else is a 'godfather' for?"

This time she laughed.

_A/N: Now review! More coming soon!_


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** Long chapter today! Read, review!

**A Few Days with Friends Chapter 6**

_The Celebration _

Nick arrived minutes before Sara pulled into the driveway. Everyone—even the baby girl—was in the driveway, surrounding the shiny RV, welcoming Nick, Mandy, and Jim Brass. Nick's age showed in his hair—no longer the dark locks of a young man, but more silver than gray that almost matched those of his wife. A little thicker in his mid-section, he bragged he could still see his belt buckle and still walked with his Texas swagger, boots on his feet.

Mandy was considered an aunt, just as Nick was an uncle; they had married suddenly, announcing it to everyone in an email from Texas. She stepped out of the RV with a smile and arms reaching for Sara Beth and who ever else was in her path.

Will waited by the high step of the doorway to lend a hand to Jim Brass. One thing remained consistent in his life and that was Jim Brass visiting the Grissom home, once a week, for nearly Will's entire life.

"Give me a hand—or can a lowly retired cop expect a hand from a high-brow surgeon!" In old age, Brass' bad knees had slowed him down until both were replaced; his hair had disappeared and his Irish ancestors showed their genes in the wrinkles that covered his face. But his laugh was the same, his grumpiness a family joke, and his ability to tell a joke had not diminished.

Quickly, the visitors were shown and settled into rooms—each one knew their place, and now that grown children no longer lived at home, each person had their 'own' room at the Grissom house. Except Nick and Mandy who insisted on sleeping in their own bed in the RV. Catherine and Greg were upstairs; Jim used the room once claimed by the boys and where he often spent the night instead of driving home after his weekly visit.

The gathering had been planned to celebrate Grissom's birthday and his daughters had insisted on a party—in addition to their long-time friends from out of town and a few locals, their nearest neighbors had already arrived with enough food for a small army. A long white tent and tables had been set up and decorated with purple, yellow, and red flowers gathered from the surrounding fields, colorful balloons printed with a number, and centerpieces—huge bowls filled with candy available in 1956. Two little boys with fists full of candy ran from table to table, person to person, overflowing with excitement for an event they did not comprehend, but already sensing they could get away from watchful parents in this crowd.

As usual for many parties, the men were the first to pull chairs together and form a comfortable circle for talk. The women, regardless of the number, were busy placing food on the tables, running inside for a forgotten item, and ignoring any suggestion that came from the group of men. The Grissom sisters kept glancing at each other knowing one guest had yet to arrive—he had landed, he was in town, and had twice called to say he was on his way home.

The car turning into the driveway caught Bizzy's eye first; she signaled to her sisters. It had been months since Eli had been home but their mother was in contact in some form with him every day—a satellite linked their computers—and she was restless until she heard from him every day. Across the table, Nick noticed the arriving car at the same time. When the door opened and long legs followed by an arm, he knew who had pulled a surprise visit. He turned to Grissom, but his eyes found Catherine. She had seen who was in the car at the same time; she stood, moving away from the table.

Sara was surrounded by women, her back to the new arrivals, and turned when she realized everyone else was looking behind her. She saw Eli rise from the car; her hand went to her mouth. Grissom saw her reaction before he saw who had arrived—but he knew her oldest son was home.

Nick's hand reached Catherine's arm. She turned to brush his grasp away. "Don't" he said. "He's her son—let her go first."

Catherine's face blushed, turning to Sara then Nick, saying "I want to…" but his head shook slightly.

Sara flew across the lawn, her arms outstretched, in one of those flash moments that would be remembered by everyone. Eli had turned to say something to those in the car before turning back to see his mother. His laughter was heard as he covered the distance between them, taking the fast moving woman into his arms, hugging and turning in circles as they both laughed. His sisters were next, all three trying to hug him at once, separating only when their father and brother voiced complaints.

Catherine wiped away sudden tears, "Thanks," she whispered to Nick. "Even now it's so hard to see him—to think of what might have been."

Nick nodded; he pushed her ahead of him and reached for his wife as they joined the others in welcoming Eli home. Nick also noticed the slim, petite red head standing at the car. For a few seconds, his breath seemed to stop; he looked at Catherine who was focused on Eli. The young woman could be a clone to Catherine Willows—the woman he had met when he first arrived in Vegas—long red-blonde hair and a body that men noticed. He looked at Eli and back to the girl; she had to be Amy. Sara was holding her hand while talking to the older couple beside her—obviously they were friends—and Nick made his way to them.

Sara's dark eyes were wet with happy tears as she introduced Amy and her parents to Nick. Grissom moved to this group, hugging Amy, shaking hands with her parents. Nick recognized some unspoken communication passing between mother's and stepped back to the group surrounding Eli that now included everyone at the party.

Grissom liked Amy—she had been a friend of Bizzy's since elementary school and, at some point in the past, Eli had developed a crush on her which turned into long term dating which moved to the two sharing an apartment for a time. Several years ago, Grissom tried to encourage his adopted son to marry Amy, but that advice had landed, perhaps not on deaf ears, but certainly on obstinate ears.

Sara leaned to Grissom's ear holding Amy's hand in hers. She whispered, "They are going to get married!"

Grissom looked down to see the eternal symbol of engagement on the girl's finger. Now he realized Sara's tears were not just for Eli's arrival; he had whispered his news to her first. He hugged Amy again. "When? Do you have a date?"

The young woman laughed, glancing at her mother. "We asked Father Watson to come later today—we thought we would do it this afternoon!"

"Today!" Grissom looked at Sara, Amy's parents, and then called Eli. His arm went around the young man's back and rested a hand on his shoulder. "I think you need to make an announcement to everyone!"

While everyone stood quietly, surrounding the couple, Eli revealed their engagement—his sisters squealed and grabbed Amy. He quieted them with a shush indicating he was not finished. "And we want to get married this afternoon—if Dad doesn't mind sharing his day with a wedding!"

"No, no," Grissom's grin crinkled his eyes and moved across his face. "But don't we have to do something?" He remembered the most recent wedding as a father of the bride often does. He turned to Amy's parents, "Can we just have a wedding?"

Amy nodded, "We can—and we got our license this morning!" She leaned into Grissom's embrace. "Actually, we've sort of been making plans for several months—and when your birthday celebration came up, we decided—why not?"

If anyone was surprised at this sudden announcement, it was not voiced as only congratulatory comments came from everyone. As an only child, Amy explained, her best friends were Eli's sisters, her parents were here, all their friends—their family—were in one place, and neither bride nor groom could think of a reason to wait for another date for their wedding.

Someone remembered all the food—waiting, and the crowd moved back to the tent. Grissom hung back. Carrying little Gil, he pulled one of the neighbors away from the group and had a hushed conversation with her as she nodded and smiled. Eating occurred, but it was between talking—bursts of laughter, exaggerated stories told, whispered words shared, lots of smiles, and an occasional secret shared between two or three. At one time, two sisters and the bride-to-be disappeared into one of the houses, returned laughing and refused to share whatever secret mission they had taken.

Sara Beth was passed around until she fell into an exhausted sleep; her brother and cousin found adults who fed them a little food then slipped candy to them when mothers were not looking. They finally curled into familiar laps with adults and took naps. After most of the food had disappeared—and no one remembered eating much—the group of women begin to work again.

When Eli offered to help, his Uncle Jim suggested, "Don't get involved. Just show up at the right moment!" Eli returned to his chair and conversations of weather, ballgames, work, local politics, national events, and far-away wars, famine, and disasters followed.

Some time in the afternoon, the local priest arrived. He had known the Grissom family for years; he was surprised yet willing to perform a ceremony on short notice for two young people he had watched grow up in his church. He knew all the neighbors, most were regular members of his congregation, and he had met most of these close friends at Ava's wedding. He also knew the story of Eli's biological parents, of Sara's long reluctance to attend church and her willingness to work on church projects.

The Grissom sisters and Amy disappeared once again after the women had gotten chairs arranged to their liking. In their absence, the birthday cake that had remained on the dining table inside appeared transformed into a simple wedding cake—candles gone, the scrolled birthday wishes with Grissom's name vanished. The neighboring woman had worked her special skills in redecorating the cake.

Grissom show his appreciation by throwing his arms in the air. "It's beautiful," he said. "The perfect wedding cake!"

"How'd she do that, Grissom?" Brass asked.

They both laughed as Grissom shook his head, "Don't have a clue. But now I don't have to blow out all those damn candles!"

The excited voices of the women brought their attention to the group arriving to the tent. Annie, Ava, and Bizzy were beside Amy who was wearing a vaguely familiar dress; Grissom realized it was the dress Bizzy had worn at her wedding. He glanced at Sara and Eli who were laughing. As Bizzy was nearly five inches taller than Amy, they had gathered and draped the skirt and tied flowers in several places. Behind them was Catherine—he should have known she would be involved. Amy's hair had been transformed with more flowers and she carried a bouquet in her hand.

Sara came to him, carrying Sara Beth in one arm, holding little Gil's hand. She passed the baby to him saying "Eli says the boys are to hold their rings."

"Did you know about this?" Grissom asked, his own face smiling almost as much as hers.

Surprised, she said, "Not a thing! Nothing—they are taking your car for two nights—Eli has a month—a month!" She placed her hands on either side of his face and kissed him. Little Gil took his opportunity to escape and ran toward the table. "Oh, he'll get in the candy again," Sara said as she ran after him. Grissom hoisted the sleeping baby to his shoulder and grinned.

Finally, Bizzy and Will stood next to the bride and groom, the parents of the couple were called forward to stand on either side as well, and the priest, in his most unorthodox way, performed a ceremony to unite the couple. Little Gil and Adam twirled gold bands around their fingers impatiently waiting to perform whatever task they were supposed to do. Adam dropped the ring twice, easily found it again in the crushed grass under his feet and, using a little spit, he rubbed dirt from the ring. Then he made a game of passing the ring from one finger to another which took some time for a four year old to complete.

Little Gil, who was a few months younger, found it more interesting to watch all the adults who were smiling, a few were wiping their faces—his mother was really smiling and when he found his dad, he was smiling too. He twisted around to find his Papa and Meme and they were smiling in a funny way. So he stood still, mostly, and studied the gold ring on his finger—he saw Adam drop the one he was holding—so to keep his safe, he did the best thing he could think of to keep it safe. Jamming the ring to his little knuckle, he inserted his finger up his nose and kept it there. The ring wasn't going anywhere.

When Eli and Amy turned to retrieve their rings, they found both rings covered with moisture, both laughed when a white handkerchief appeared and Will wiped and dried each ring before the bride and groom slipped the rings on fingers. With their roles complete, the two boys did a little dance before one saw his parents and ran to them. The one with the dark hair, who knew he shared his name with his favorite person in the world, went to Grissom, who picked him up and whispered a secret in his ear. The smile on his face was almost the same as those on the faces of his mother and grandmother.

It seemed food had magically appeared as the cake was cut and everyone filled fresh plates with more food. Eventually, some kind of organized clean-up started. Sara was busy with Eli and Amy or the kids; others were cleaning up the party debris. Will noticed his sisters working on some secret project when he saw them running to the garage. It took all the men to get Nick's RV placed in the right position and hooked up—something he usually did in fifteen minutes took an hour with all the advice.

Suddenly the newlyweds were leaving with birthday balloons tied to Grissom's car, promising to return in two days. Finally, the neighbors, the friends, and the priest left the party and the quietness of evening settled on the three houses. But night time did not mean sleep—not for people with life-long memories to share. Ava and Bizzy managed to get Catherine and Mandy to Bizzy's house with the suggestion that Grissom and Sara could get the boys asleep faster in a quiet house, and one added, they always loved to talk girl-stuff with their favorite aunts.

_A/N: One more chapter for this story--if you are reading, and numbers indicate hundreds are reading this, leave us a review (we have enabled 'anonymous reviews' to see if more will leave a note.) Tell us something--anything! This is a story we have worked on, talked about for months, before it was published. So tell us what you think!_


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: The last chapter! Enjoy!_

**A Few Days with Friends Chapter 7**

_Afterwards…_

As the women relaxed—the husbands had disappeared—and propped feet on furniture, shoes off, they talked about the events of the day which brought up memories of other days. Wine appeared; one of the husband's had made a run, he said. Ava got fruit juice and scowled as her sister patted her belly.

"Tell us something about Mom and Dad," Bizzy said. This would not be the first time the girls had heard the story of their parents, but Catherine and Mandy could tell the story of how two people kept a secret from everyone around them, of how they worked together every day and no one suspected a romance worthy of a classic novel.

Annie reached for the slim book they had read earlier. "Tell us about Greg and Mom—he wrote this book for us after Will was born." She passed the book to Catherine. "And—I think—today, we realized this is a love story—it's a family story—but Greg wrote it and, after all these years, we were hit with the love in it—not best friends forever kind of love, not brother to sister kind, but it's romantic."

Catherine and Mandy were smiling. They had always known Sara's children were smart. Catherine rearranged herself and reached for her wine glass. Mandy's soft laughter broke the quietness.

She said, "I've always wondered if you kids ever suspected the truth."

Catherine spoke, "But there's not much to tell, really. Other than your Uncle Greg was smitten from the time he walked into the lab with your mother. He was so young, and so funny! For a while, we all knew he was love-struck—totally involved in trying to get Sara's attention—and we thought," she waved two fingers together. "It was cute—but the harder he tried, the more he lost ground. One day—I don't remember when—we realized Greg had settled for whatever came his way—in love with another man's wife is never easy, but he does well. He loves all of you." She laughed again, shaking her head.

"We had a party once—maybe it was your dad's birthday or someone's birthday—not a real party, just meeting in a nice club after work. Everyone danced—except Gil and he never danced…"

Mandy interrupted, "Yes, he did. Once with Sara—we talked about it for weeks—first time anyone had ever seem him dance." She winked and waved a hand as she whispered, "Slow dancing too—made me hot to see those two dancing—and this was a long time before anyone knew about them!"

Catherine continued talking. "Well, there were always more men than women, and your mother was as graceful on a dance floor as any dancer ever wanted to be—sexy in the way of slim, tall women—and Greg wanted to dance every dance with her." Catherine turned to Mandy, asking, "Do you remember this? We got mad at Sara," she looked at the girls, "you know how things are when you are partying, right? And she sat down next to Gil, refusing to dance with anyone."

Mandy picked up the story. "We got mad because she was getting all of Greg's attention! So she sits down with your dad, and the next thing we know, they disappear!" She paused, her forehead wrinkled. "You don't suppose that's when they actually—you know."

The girls laughed; this was better than any novel, or any movie.

Nick's new RV had attracted the attention of all the men and by the time the Grissom sisters had lodged themselves in Bizzy's house listening to Catherine and Mandy, the men were inside the RV. After explaining the newest technology and the hybrid use of fuels and solar power, the men settled in comfortable chairs with two, Will and one brother-in-law stretched on the floor space.

"Who knew Eli was getting married?" Greg asked.

Everyone shook their heads. "Not a clue," Will said. "I'm sure Mom did not know." He chuckled sounding a lot like his father. "Did you see her—her feet didn't touch the ground!"

Nick's voice rumbled with a laugh. "Sounds like his daddy—Warrick. Slipped off and married without telling any of us! Just appeared one morning wearing a wedding band."

Will rolled to face Nick. "I didn't know that—so his parents were married. I thought—I guess I've never realized they actually married. When did Eli appear?"

Nick rubbed his face and looked at Greg. "Do you remember? It has been a long time to put things together. I remember Catherine was pretty upset about it—and today, did anyone else notice the resemblance between Catherine and Amy? Talk about—what's that French word? Déjà vu all over again!"

The younger men looked puzzled. "Amy looks like Catherine?" One of them questioned.

"Yeah, I can see it," agreed Will. "Hair, cute body."

Greg started the story. "Catherine was always sweet on Warrick. I don't think they ever got that far—and I always thought it was Warrick, not Catherine—who kept them from getting together. Warrick wanted Grissom's approval more than anything in the world, and if he and Catherine 'hooked up', Warrick knew Grissom would not like it."

Nick's quiet laughter caused everyone to look at him. "I'm not so sure they didn't. There were a few times they both came in looking like the cat with the canary!"

The younger men laughed.

"What about Mom?" Will asked. Both men looked at him, confusion etched in faces. "Did she and Warrick—you know!"

Nick shook his head. Greg groaned. "Now why on earth would you ask that?" Nick said. "Your mamma had one man on her mind—your daddy! I couldn't get her to even talk about dating any of my friends." He chuckled. "Your Uncle Greg is the one that could've been your daddy!"

Greg laughed, "Only in my dreams, bro, only in my dreams!"

Will had sat up, folded his legs together, saying, "Mom always had a special connection with Eli—I never thought she had a favorite kid—but she always wanted him close, still does. So I thought maybe it was about Warrick."

Both men shook their heads. "Not that. Not that way. Your dad loved Warrick like a son—everyone was devastated about his death." Greg said, leaning forward as he remembered. "I was with your mom when we learned he had a son. It got to her—here was a little boy who would never know his dad. Then, as things turned out, he came to live here. Sara didn't want him to ever think he wasn't a part of her family—if she favored him, it's because all of you could look across the table and see your daddy—Eli couldn't do that."

It was Will's turn to laugh. "When I was young, some kid asked me how Eli was my brother. I told him I was born his brother—he never asked again."

Nick leaned back and stretched his legs. "I'm too old for this late night philosophy and trying to remember 'history'. My back hurts. My boots need to come off but my feet stink! So, if you don't mind, boys, I'm running you out! First light, Grissom will have me up, stomping around the lower four, and gathering honey!"

Inside the house, two little boys had been fed, bathed, dressed in super hero pajamas, read to, and tucked into the middle of their grandparent's bed. Sara had showered, thought about how so much food had appeared, and disappeared, for two celebrations, because after the wedding ceremony, there was cake—everyone laughed at the transformation from birthday to wedding—and a dozen platters of other foods, vegetables and fruits, breads and pastries, bowls of home made jams, honey, and nuts. She owed her neighbors for their generosity once again.

"I think everyone cleaned out their pantries and freezers for this," Grissom said as he picked up one sleeping form and moved it to the center of the bed. Both boys stretched and spread arms and legs in different directions but remained asleep.

Sara came from the bathroom wearing her sleeping shirt and pants, looked at the bed, and joined Grissom where he sat. "We've reverted to when Bizzy and Eli were little—everyone sleeping in the same bed."

"Well," Grissom rubbed the bridge of his nose and pulled her with him as they lay back on the bed. "With all the company and excitement, they needed something special—give the parents time to visit with the others. Will and Greg are out talking to Nick. The girls have Catherine and Mandy at Bizzy's house. Jim's asleep—snoring when I checked. Everyone's taken care of—and we can get some sleep before everyone wakes up and wants breakfast."

Sara rolled, propped her head on one hand and gently caressed Grissom's face with the other. "You have given us a wonderful life, Gil. If it ended tomorrow, I'd die happy—our kids are happy; they have good lives, good families. They love each other." She sighed, then grinned, before continuing, "I worried about so much for so long." She leaned over and kissed him, lightly. Finding his lips dry, she licked her own and kissed him again and smiled.

"You don't worry now?" Grissom's voice was soft, but somewhat hoarse. He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her against his shoulder.

"Not so much."

He chuckled. "Which side of this bed do you want for the night?" For a while the two lay together, a comfortable and content silence surrounded them.

After a time Sara rolled, sat up and scooted beside Adam. "At least we kept a big bed."

Grissom adjusted covers, crawled beside the one named after him, and reached across both boys. "Love you, dear."

Her hand found his as the two boys snuggled and curled against the warm adults.

"Forever," she whispered—a response she had given him for many years. "Good night, Gil."

"Good night, honey."

_Finale, The End, Conclusion_!

A/N: We enjoyed writing this one, a tribute to our grandparents--especially to our grandpop who died six years ago this month. We like to think Grissom would the kind of grandparent he was! Thanks to our grandma who gave us a few suggestions for this one (Including having a surprise wedding on grandpop's birthday!). Thanks to all the readers, especially to those who always write a review!

We will be back with another story, but for a while, we are going to let this Grissom family have a rest. There are many stories to tell, of course, so keep reading, keep watching and one day another "sarapals" fanfic will land in your mailbox! Again, thanks for reading and encouraging us! Now, encourage us with a review!


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